


Burning like a Phoenix

by sparkeythehamster



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Non-Consensual Touching, Protective Oswald Cobblepot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 16:37:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,441
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17186552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sparkeythehamster/pseuds/sparkeythehamster
Summary: He was curious to see how far his old friend had come. From mourning son, to Gotham’s Mayor, and now, Nightclub manager. Nothing held him back, be it death or disgrace. Oswald might have the stature and sharpness of a penguin, but his mannerisms and perseverance had always reminded Ed of a phoenix, indestructible and burning with all the pride and power of the sun.“What’s a pretty thing like you doing hidden away in a corner like this?”Turning his head sharply, Ed’s eyes focused on the new presence. A tall man, broad shouldered and grinning.This was why he hated places like this.





	Burning like a Phoenix

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this story after having seen only the first half of Season 3, hence the canon divergence as I could only based it at the time on what I had seen.

Nursing the glass in his hand, Ed contemplated the crowd pressing in around him. Nightclubs were not his scene, and that was probably painfully obvious to anyone who had noticed him awkwardly perched against the table of the corner booth. Ordinarily he’d never dream of entering a place like this.

Taking another sip, he cast his blue eyes over the throbbing ocean of people, focusing in on the spiked black hair near the bar. Oswald Cobblepot, better known as The Penguin these days. He was smiling, caught up in a conversation with a lavishly dressed woman adorned with pearls. She was grinning back, too many teeth. Barking up the wrong tree there, he grinned into his overpriced drink.

If Oswald knew he was here there would be hell to pay, but wasn’t that a part of the thrill?

Ed was curious to see how far his old friend had come. From mourning son, to Gotham’s Mayor, and now, Nightclub manager and ruler of the underworld. Nothing held him back, be it death or disgrace. Oswald might have the stature and sharpness of a penguin, but his mannerisms and perseverance had always reminded Ed of a phoenix, indestructible and burning with all the pride and power of the sun.

“What’s a pretty thing like you doing hidden away in a corner like this?”

Turning his head sharply, Ed’s eyes focused on the new presence. A tall man, broad shouldered and grinning.

This was why he hated places like this.

Adjusting his glasses, Ed smiled back, gaze cold. “The answer I give is yes, but what I mean is no. What was the question?”

The man paused, thrown by the abrupt question.

“Do you mind?” Ed answered it for him, his smile flickering into a frown.

Perhaps he’d pressed his luck for long enough. One of Oswald’s lackies would spot him eventually, and he was just about reaching the end of his tolerance with this place.

The man recovered from his confusion, the smile returning as he laughed, he didn’t look like he understood the answer or the reason it had been given.

“It’s okay if you’re shy,” he moved closer, crowding Ed’s space, “We can find somewhere more private if you’d like?” You didn’t need to be a genius to understand the implication there. He’d had enough.

Pushing forward, Ed made to move around the man. He could lose himself in the crowd and make his way to the door, this idiot could find someone else to waste shoddy chat up lines on.

A hand closed around his wrist, preventing his progress and pulling him back.

“Come on now,” the man’s purring voice was far too close to his neck, “Just relax.”

Ed was tall, but this was Gotham, and there was an endless supply of butch henchman fodder. This man certainly fit the bill, he had to be at least 6’3, square jawed, and built like a boar.

He felt the other hand snaking across his waist, shivering with disgust, and although it pained him to admit it, there was a small degree of panic beginning to set in.

Despite his height and intellect, Ed knew he was slight in build. He was unarmed and trapped behind a wall of people in an unfamiliar location. No one was paying them any attention, too caught up in their own indulgences to notice what was happening in the shadowed corner booth.

Dropping down onto the blue leather seat, the man pulled Ed down onto his lap, the arm fixed around his waist holding him steady, while the second dropped from his wrist and began closing around Ed’s throat, finger stroking the line of his jaw. The grip wasn’t tight enough to hurt, but there was a firm pressure, a warning Ed guessed.

“Let me go,” trying to shift out of the grasp, Ed made a move to stand, but the hold around his waist remained firm, and the fingers around his neck tightened.

“Not so fast. We still haven’t been introduced,” his head was forced back, exposing the side of his neck for his captor to press his rough lips against. “They call me Calver. I’m a big help to powerful men like Penguin when they need a body taken care of.”

His lips progressed to Ed’s stubborn set jaw.

“Be a good boy and I promise you’ll enjoy this as much as I do.”

There had to be a way out of this. His mind was racing, evaluating every detail of Calver and their position that would do him damage, mindful of Oswald’s presence across the room. If the crime boss knew he was here, then it would be both their heads on a spike. Oswald couldn’t stand the sight of him, a sentiment that Ed had convinced himself that he shared.

He’d allowed himself to be distracted. However, he was called back to his current predicament when hands began to fumble at his belt.

Heart swelling with alarm, Ed struggled, the hand around his throat be damned. It was crass and crude, but it was all he could think of. Sinking his teeth deep into the man’s hand, Ed bit down until he tasted blood.

With a muffled cry of pain and surprise, the hand around his throat loosened. For one short moment he was free, then the hand struck out once more closing around the back of his jacket. He was being forced down onto the leather cushions, Calver’s weight pressing down above him.

Someone must have noticed, but any eyes that had flickered towards them for a moment now seemed to be blind to Ed’s plight. Fuck them all. More than anything, Ed wanted to see all of them writhing in pain, and as for his attacker. Ed gritted his teeth, he’d begin by cutting off his fingers, then his toes, carving the skin from his face before taking a knife to the hard member currently pressing against his thigh.

Ed’s glasses had slipped, his vision half blurred as he continued to try and free himself. It was hopeless, and the Riddler in him knew that he was just demeaning himself further by trying, but his breath was coming in short hysterical gasps, his mind sinking into a deep black state of terror.

“…The pretty ones always fight it,” Carver’s hips rolled against him, pulling Ed’s glasses from his face and placing them down on the table. “I gave you a chance, but now I’ll have to humiliate you in front of all these people.”

Muscled arms struck out suddenly, seizing Carver around the head and waist, pulling him away from Ed.

“What sort of club do you think this is!?” Oswald’s voice. “You’re lucky I don’t send you home down the river!”

His breath still painful and sharp, Ed risked a glance at the scene before him, keeping his own identity shielded by the shadows. It seemed unlikely that Oswald had realised it was him, and perhaps he’d have a chance to sneak away before his degradation was discovered.

He was unsure what Oswald’s reaction would be if he was discovered. The man hated him, but sometimes Ed still sensed that possessiveness, Oswald had loved him once, and it had been a jealous love. Ed felt the Riddler's curiosity and malice, a desire to see the other man’s jealousy and fury, to see what he’d do to the bastard.

Through the terror that was still pounding around his head, Ed remind himself that while it was true that Oswald had loved him once, that was no longer the case. He needed to get out of here while the club owner was distracted.

“It was only a bit of fun, the twink didn’t mind I swear.”

He should move. He couldn’t risk Oswald seeing him, and yet Ed found himself frozen in place, his face still, thankfully obscured by the shadows set by the poor lighting and cover of the table.

He saw Oswald’s gaze flick towards the glasses set down clumsily on the table and watched as his narrow shoulders tensed. He manoeuvred around Carver and his henchmen, while Ed pathetically scrabbled backwards, he couldn’t breathe, thinking straight was out of the question.

His vision was still blurred, but he knew that Oswald had seen and recognised him. Heart beating fast against his ribs, Ed waited, unable to read the expression studying him.

Then, in one swift motion the shorter man pulled something from his pocket. Ed didn’t need to be able to see to recognise the firm composure of a gun. He braced himself, hoping that Oswald might take some pity and at least shoot him somewhere non-fatal, but instead the gun turned away from him and fired in the opposite direction.

Carver cried out in pain, clutching at his shoulder, as Oswald kicked him to the ground taking aim again. His expression was hazy, but fury radiated from his stance. “Take him out back, I’ll deal this bastard later.”

He pocketed the gun, twirling back to the crowd. “Ladies and gentlemen, I apologise for the disturbance, but I am sure we are all the richer without scum like that among us.”

A nervous murmur of agreement followed, and the crowd quickly parted.

Scrabbling out for his glasses, Ed pressed the lenses back against his face, desperate to do something to reduce his humiliating vulnerability.

Oswald’s men were dragging Carver away, leaving the two ex-conspirators alone by the corner booth.

His old friend’s face with awash with a flurry of emotions; fury and worry being the most obvious.

Oswald’s eyes travelled from his dishevelled hair, down to the disturbed buttons of his jacket, flicking for a moment to his unbuckled belt, before refocusing on his neck.

A strange heat worked its way up Ed’s neck, almost reaching his cheeks before he firmly suppressed it, trying to ignore the way his pulse leaped with erratic excitement as Oswald eyes wandered freely over his body.

There was nothing sexual about Oswald’s observations, and Ed chastised himself for even contemplating that as a possibility. He did not have feelings for Oswald Cobblepot, and Oswald Cobblepot no longer had feelings for him.

“What are you doing here Nygma?” Finally, the tension seemed to leave the shorter man’s body, and a frown forced down the other expressions on his face, “If you’ve come to cause trouble, I’d say you owe me, so I’d prefer it if you took down whatever…”

“No.”

Oswald narrowed his eyes.

“I mean, I didn’t come here to cause trouble… I just heard about you and this club and thought I’d see how…”

As if he’d been hit very suddenly with a battering ram, Ed felt all the air leave his body. His vision darkened, and he found himself gasping for air. He was no stranger to panic attacks, but he’d been little more than a child the last time he’d had one this severe.

The frown slipping, Oswald dived into the booth beside him, arms wrapping tightly around Ed in a strong-armed embrace.

“Breath” he whispered, “Follow me.”

Ed felt the gentle rhythmic rise and fall of Oswald’s chest against his own, the warm releases of air against his neck. And, despite his rivalry with the other man, Ed began to slowly follow the example set. He managed a few successful calm breaths, before the flash of his father’s belt burned against his mind, coupled with the feeling of Carver’s hands tightening around his waist. The panic began to pick up again, but a gentle hand ran carefully along his shoulder blade.

Oswald hushed him patiently, encouraging the slow breathing again, as Ed’s fingers closed tighter around the material of Oswald’s jacket.

When breathing started to become easier, Ed found himself more aware of the warmth of the other body against his, he felt the angle of Oswald’s face against his cheek. The breath against his neck suddenly felt like static charges of lightning.

“He hurt you.” This was not a question, but rather a statement.

Ed hadn’t realised until he heard it, how much he’d missed that tone. The one that told him that Oswald was thinking up the most creative brand of torture for someone who had dared to touch something that belonged to him.

But his pride prevented him from answering.

By the way Oswald’s eyes had lingered on his neck, Ed could only assume his throat was bruised, reawakening a familiar sense of déjavu.

Sighing, the other man pulled away, facing Ed, while remaining close enough not to slacken the hold Ed had on his smart dinner jacket. Doing his best to avoid eye contact, the riddle maker instead focused on the shimmering silk of Oswald’s tie.

“He didn’t get far,” the words came out as more of a mumble than Ed had intended, causing his cheeks to burn with embarrassment, shivering as he remembered the uncomfortable feeling of the other man’s cock against his leg, hard and threatening. His stomach turned when he remembered the fraction of a second it had pressed between his legs.

“But he was planning on doing so…”

Ed could feel Oswald’s conflict hot against his skin. He didn’t need to meet the other man’s gaze to know how much he wanted to touch him, it was tearing him up to know that someone had touched him in a way Oswald had never been able to. But unlike Carver, and other men like him, Oswald would never take what wasn’t given to him freely.

For one crazy moment it crossed Ed’s mind to let him, but he crushed that thought quickly, stunned by its impertinence. He was grateful for Oswald for stopping his attacker, and he had to be careful not to mistake that for… mistake it for whatever that was.

“I’ll deal with him personally,” Oswald’s touch slipped from his shoulders, breaking his gaze, just as Ed raised his own. “I’ll ensure he suffers tenfold, before I have my men tear him to pieces.”

“Why?” It was a question asked against his better judgement, but the Riddler’s interest broke through Ed’s defences. If Oswald’s feelings for him had truly gone, then why did this matter to him? Such energy to exert for the sake of an enemy.

The pale cheeks of the other man pinkened, but his expression didn’t betray him. He gave no answer, put pulled away, finally forcing Ed to release him.

“I’ll see that one of my men takes you home safely, please don’t come back.”

Feeling his nerves beginning to tighten again as Oswald pulled away, Ed’s body moved of its own accord, lunging forward to grip around the tail of the club owner’s jacket, which had become rather ruffled from his constant tugging and grasping.

Surprised by his own movements, Ed released quickly, horrified and embarrassed. Oswald was right, perhaps it was best he left.

“Thank you…” He coughed, forcing himself to look up at Oswald, heart beating at an unfairly fast rate. “But… I want to hurt him.” He only realised it as the words took form, but he knew them to be true. He couldn’t let this fear linger, he couldn’t let this become another nightmare he’d been unable to overcome.

Oswald lip twitched as he considered this request, then he nodded, “Fair enough.”

Leading Ed with his movement, the distinguished but short statured man cut a path for them through the crowd, which seemed to part obediently to make space. Curious eyes tracked their progress, whispers and mutters keeping pace with their route.

Reaching a small side door, Oswald unlocked it with a key from his lapel pocket and pushed through, keeping it ajar with his arm so that Ed could join him.

They were in a narrow back hall, far less glamorous than the club itself.

“You’ve done well.”

Oswald’s eyes flickered over his shoulder at Ed’s statement, but he didn’t respond or make any indication that he’d heard.

He’d just been trying to break the awkward silence, but Oswald didn’t seem to be in the mood.

“Say my name and I disappear. What am I?”

Although it wasn’t his intention to rile Oswald up, Ed’s words seemed to have that effect, as the Penguin’s body tensed all over. He stopped and turned sharply, eyes scanning over his companion suspiciously.

“Silence. Why are you really here Ed?”

“I told you, I was curious to see the place.”

“You hate Nightclubs” Oswald replied flatly, “The only reason you’d be here is to mess with me. Is this whole thing,” he motioned towards the door they were heading towards, “Messing with me?”

Expression falling into one of horror, Ed shook his head, “No, I…” He swept a tongue across his lips nervously, “The less of me you have, the more I am worth. What am I?”

He knew Oswald was sharp enough to piece together a riddle like that, so his confused expression probably had more to do with the answer than the question. “We’re not friends Ed.”

“But we were once. And for that reason, I found myself curious to see your progress. To see how close, you’d come to the man you’ve always wanted to be.”

“And?” The air in hall seemed to sharpen, as if every particle were listening in on their conversation.

His heart beat was becoming uneven again. He knew what the honest reply was. Oswald was magnificent, proud and striking, just as he always had been. But the confidence and power that radiated off him now was immeasurable, he was quickly taking on the form of a man capable of ruling Gotham. The words however, caught in his throat. They were exactly the sort of things that old Ed would have said, the encouragement and faith that had brought Oswald to develop feelings for him.

The other man was still waiting, but as Ed’s struggle became clear, he tilted his head slightly, lip twitching. “Enough to put you at a loss for words? I must be doing well then.”

Annoyed, Ed snapped his eyes back to meet with Oswald’s smirking face. He was right though, so what could Ed do to dispute it.

“What can be swallowed, but can also swallow you?”

Oswald’s lip curled at that, and for a split second he was looking at Ed with an expression The Riddler had not seen in a long time. Back when Oswald had been running for mayor, he’d seen it a lot, a gentle look that very few had ever been privileged enough to see.

“Pride.”

Clearing his throat awkwardly, Ed refocused on the hallway ahead. “It seems unfair to leave your men waiting out in the cold for much longer.”

Refocusing, features rearranging back to their neutral sneer, Oswald nodded.

Calver Alfonsi was crouched on the frozen back alley, Oswald’s men holding him firmly.

“Look, I’m sorry” Calver yelped when Oswald emerged from the door, “But you know how it is when you see a pretty piece of ass just…” He froze when Ed followed Penguin out. “Oh shit, look I didn’t realise he was yours okay! He said nothing, I would have stopped if he’d told me I swear!”

Reaching for a long running metal pipe resting against the wall of the club, Oswald struck Calver sharply across the back of his shoulders, sending the man sprawling onto the filthy pavement.

Bending down, Oswald seized the back of the man’s scalp, fingers curling painfully into his slick brown hair, holding him to face Ed with a snarl. “Do you even know who this is?”

Far more aroused than he knew he should be, Ed only had eyes for Oswald caught up in his sadistic fury. He barely even caught the question, only taking note of it when the shorter man repeated it, twisting his hand right into Calver’s scalp.

“No! Fuck! I don’t know!”

Entering the fray, Ed stepped forward. Smiling as he lent down, enjoying the look of terror in the man’s piggish grey eyes. That was right, he wasn’t a frightened child at the mercy of others any more, he didn’t have to fear anyone.

“Why don’t you Riddle me this. More valued than gold, more precious than silk Pouring like wine, flowing like milk.”

The high he got off his captor’s paling face and gasp of sheer terror, was enough to make him dizzy. Letting out a laugh of triumph, Ed reached out for the pipe Oswald was offering him and drew the jagged end down the man’s cheek, drawing blood as it travelled down to his chin.

“Please don’t kill me, I didn’t realise, I didn’t…” Ed brought the pipe down hard on his arm, striking down on the injury inflicted earlier by The Penguin's bullet, laughing once more at the sickening crack as the bone within shattered. Oswald’s eyes were on him, he could feel them, drinking in everything about him with the parched thirst of a man starved of water. His hand was still hooked in Calver’s hair, twisting viciously, tongue between his teeth as he followed the route of the pipe as Ed lifted it once more, bringing it down on the other arm.

“You’re both fucking crazy!” The man was weeping like a baby, a pathetic display that drew out most of the fun. It was better when they fought with you, showed some spirit, but this piece of trash was nothing but a wining coward.

Dropping the pipe to the ground, Ed stepped back. His eyes once more focused on Oswald as the other man took over, drawing out his knife and setting to work.

Oswald didn’t kill him, explaining later that leaving him alive, half his face gathered up in a bucket would send a far clearer message, than a simple execution without context. If Calver returned to the club he would be shot, if he came anywhere near Ed again then he would be shot, these were the terms Oswald had made very clear.

The spike of adrenalin still hadn’t worn off. Ed’s hands felt unoccupied, twitching as they searched for a purpose, something to relieve himself of this giddy thrill.

A limo had pulled up at the end of the street, presumably to collect Oswald. He was covered in blood. It wouldn’t be possible for him to return to the club without a change of clothes at the very least.

Oswald’s eyes were dark, pupils blown as wide as the moon, the hunger for more alight within his soul, a reflection of Ed’s own gaze.

As if he were being led by an invisible thread, Ed followed the other man towards the car, pausing only once the he had slipped inside, their eyes locked.

The shorter man’s pupils steadied. An unspoken question, or perhaps it was a hope, one that Oswald had been less capable of banishing than Ed had thought. The door was open, but it was Ed’s choice as to what happened next.

It was a sobering thought, and Ed realised as the fog in his mind began to clear that he wouldn’t be able to rely on his violent high to make this decision for him.

He left it too late, Oswald turned, beginning to pull the car door closed.

Whether it was Ed or the Riddler that moved first, he wasn’t sure. “Wait!” His hand curved around the doorframe. Oswald waited, but his patience was wearing thin, and his cheeks were pale with the humiliation of rejection.

“What’s in a man’s pants that you won’t find in a girl’s dress?”

Oswald blinked at him, mouth opening with confusion and exasperation.

“Pockets,” Ed demonstrated by placing a hand in his own. “I’m great for protection. You use your fingers to get me off. What am I?”

“Ed.” Oswald cut across him, pushing the door of the car open again, amusement had taken the place of his earlier annoyance, but the impatience was growing. “Get in the car.”

Before his nerves got the better of him, the green-clad riddle maker slipped inside, shivering slightly as he felt the careful touch of Oswald’s fingers grace across his thigh, a touch that could have been accidental as the other man made room for him, but Ed understood it was still Oswald’s uncertainty as he searched for permission.

The door to the limo closed behind them and Ed leaned in closer, drawing himself onto Oswald’s lap, catching the hitch of breath in the other man’s throat.

“You don’t… you don’t owe me anything…” The shorter man swallowed, turning his head away, although the evidence of his hardening arousal was already pressing against Ed’s stomach.

“This isn’t about that,” leaning forward, Ed allowed his own hardness to press against Oswald’s, gasping sharply as the contact had more of an impact than he’d been expecting. “I… Oswald I… _If you want him to fuck us, just say so!_ ” The Riddler took control of his voice, clearly far more frustrated by this than either Ed or Oswald.

However, the interruption brought a bemused smile to Oswald’s face, as he finally responded, folding his hand gently around the back of Ed’s neck, careful not to disturb the bruising.

“Is that what you want Ed?” His grinded his hips upwards, the hard force of his cock digging against Ed’s ass. Releasing an embarrassing whimper, Ed tried to return the motion clumsily, revealing the sharp reality that he had no idea what he was doing.

Oswald’s breath was warm and comforting against his neck, holding Ed close against him. “All you ever needed to do was ask.”

Finding himself pressed down against the course of a leather seat for the second time that night, the Riddler gasped squirmed as the other man towered above him. It wasn’t unpleasant like it had been before though, if anything there was something relaxing about allowing Oswald to take control.

“May I?” Oswald touched a hand to the prong of his glasses.

Nodding, Ed tilted his head to make it easier for his partner to remove the glasses, watching as they were placed carefully above the backrest, amongst the champaign glasses fixed in place above them. A single finger traced the lining of his cheekbones before relocating to his lips, causing Ed to tremble under the light pressure. Every part of his body felt sensitive to Oswald’s presence and touches, and he was hyper aware of the weight spread out along his body, and the desire he had for the rough friction Oswald seemed to be depriving him of.

Desperate he tried to move, lifting his hips, but Oswald only smiled, hushing him. “Patience,” he then leaned down, finally allowing their lips to meet, patient and calm against Ed’s desperation and inexperience. He’d kissed women before, but never with the same need he’d felt for Oswald and, knowing how much that thought would please the other man only made him more desperate to reciprocate.

His hard work was rewarded, when Oswald finally ground his hips down against Ed’s own, moaning softly as Ed gasped beneath him.

But despite Ed’s desperation for release, Oswald seemed determined to take his time with the whole thing. He tugged at Ed’s jacket, forcing him up to make it easier to remove, almost purring with satisfaction as Ed returned the gesture, discarding both garments onto the floor.

“It’s a cheap thing” Oswald commented, rimming his finger around one of the plastic buttons of the Riddler’s white shirt, “Don’t worry I’ll replace it.”

Unsure of what that meant, a moan trembled through Ed’s body when Oswald impulsively tore at the neck of his shirt, snapping the top button as his mouth pressed hot and flush against the skin of his neck, trailing down to his collarbone. Enjoying every cry and moan Ed released, feeding his erection which elicited an even sharper cry from Ed as it pressed purposefully against his rear through the pliable material of his pants.

Ed was new to this, so perhaps it was unfair to tease. Oswald had enjoyed countless indulgent fantasies about this moment, explored the concept of every part of Ed he wanted to touch, wondered about how each press of his fingers would affect the other man. But he couldn’t afford to be selfish now.

Sitting up, Oswald chuckled at the disappointed whine that escaped from Ed’s lips. Reaching down for the small enclosed draw below the seats, Oswald withdrew with a small tube, snapping off the top, coating his fingers in the substance that leaked out across his appendages.

He felt Ed tense, so reached out his free hand to massage the inner lining of his thigh carefully.

“Ed,” he spoke gently, “We don’t have to…”

The other man shook his head, “No, I want you to… It… will it hurt?”

“A little.” He wasn’t going to lie, no matter how eager he was to know that no one else had ever touched Ed in this way before.

He waited, watching as Ed drew himself up on his elbows, capturing Oswald’s mouth in a hesitant but stubborn kiss. “I want you to.”

Enraptured by the kiss and marred desire in the other man’s voice, Oswald didn’t realise his first finger was already pressing inside down inside of him, until Ed collapsed back down onto the seat, clawing his nails along the cushions with a sharp hiss of pain.

“Relax” he whispered, lowering himself over Ed softly, kissing the corner of his mouth as he continued to massage his thigh and hip, patiently waiting for the muscle around his finger to relax and adjust before he pushed it in further.

He knew he needed to find that critical spot before the pain became too much for Ed, but he knew he couldn’t rush this either.

“You’re doing well.” He curled his finger, spreading the space to make room for the second. Ed’s shoulders tensed once more, but something resembling a small gasp released from his lips.

Brushing his fingers as carefully as he could around the muscle, Oswald felt a swell of relief and determination when Ed’s pupils dilated with pleasure, his hips pressing down against Oswald’s fingers. But what was most encouraging was the name he uttered, “Oswald… god… please… again… Oswald please.”

Curling out his fingers once more, Oswald’s cock twitched with anticipation as Ed panted and cried out his name once more, emitted a small squeak as he allowed Oswald’s fingers to fuck him.

Able to sneak a third finger in without Ed noticing, and satisfied that Ed didn’t need the comfort of a hand against his thigh any more, the shorter man turned his attention instead to Ed’s own erection, currently neglected as Oswald kicked off his own pants and briefs.

“I’m going to put it in now.” He didn’t know if Ed could even hear him, he seemed too caught up in the pleasure Oswald was giving him, and really nothing could please Oswald more than seeing the man he’d desired for so long squirming and begging for his touch.

He did feel Ed momentarily flinch when he replaced the fingers with his cock, but as soon as he found that spot again, the Riddler was lost once more.

“Oswald!” The sound of his name repeated again and again, urged him onward with each thrusting motion, stroking Ed’s own cock with expert precision. He had cared very little for his other sexual encounters, but they were all worth it now, as he knew the experience was what was allowing him to reduce Ed to this state of ecstasy.

No doubt his driver knew what was happening, he’d hear Ed’s cries and moans; the henchmen that had seen them off would have an idea, and word would spread fast. Ed was his, and he wanted the whole of Gotham to know.

With a final cry, Ed released, his breath short as he reached up once more to press his lips across Oswald’s jaw, fingers searching blindly for his mouth, allowing the shorter man to hoist Ed onto his lap, encouraging him to move, keeping the rhythm up, before Oswald’s knees buckled and his own relief came.

“Ed” he gasped, pressing his face close to the other man’s, mind swimming in the blissful fog that had swarmed across his vision, taking in as much as he could about how Ed felt within his arms, limp and exhausted, but indisputably offering himself, with every weary kiss.

Shifting slightly, so that Ed wasn’t taking as much of his weight, Oswald pressed a chaste peck to his partner’s forehead. “Rest” he ordered, stroking the soft tussled hair from the other man’s brow. “I won’t leave you.”

He wouldn’t. So long as Ed wanted him here, Oswald would never leave him.


End file.
